


International Fault Lines

by softintelligence



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softintelligence/pseuds/softintelligence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagami and Himuro meet up again and again, but every time, one of them ends up completely speechless. </p><p>Collected Kagami/Himuro stories written for <a href="http://basketballpoetsociety.tumblr.com">basketballpoetsociety</a>'s "Battle of the OTPs" challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's meet again in Hollywood.

After parking his car three blocks away in a dimly lit neighborhood next to a sign that read _No parking Monday thru Friday 8am to 6pm,_ Tatsuya arrived at Hae Jang Chon exactly at six thirty, the long fringe of his bangs snapped flat against his forehead by a purple hair clip. He squeezed his way through the crowd into the front of the shop and scribbled his name at the bottom of the waiting list along with the number 2 next to it. 

Outside again, he took a deep breath and settled against the wall, looking out from underneath the awning to the closed shops across the street. A large family chatted next to him in Korean, another couple next to him in English, and for a moment Tatsuya longed for Little Tokyo, where he didn’t have to worry about getting a ticket on his car or beating the rush hour traffic and driving on two hours of sleep fifteen miles across the city for what was purportedly the best AYCE Korean BBQ.

Tatsuya pulled out his thin cell phone and scrolled through the short list of text message threads to Taigai’s name, glancing at the last text. _Be there soon. Took the wrong bus._

Well, that was Taiga for you. Three years reading the train schedules in Japan, busing in and out of one district to the next to visit the Generation of Miracles every week but once he was back in Los Angeles all his knowledge of bus stops withered into dust. Tatsuya thought it was a small blessing that of all the UCs, UCLA was the smallest.

Tatsuya texted Taiga back, _I can just pick you up._

Almost instantaneously, _Nah, I got it. Almost there. Did you get the table?_ As though Tatsuya were the one who needed help navigating Los Angeles again.

_Yeah, I got the table, but the wait is about 40 minutes._

Tatsuya felt eclipsed by Taiga’s bravery, his courage to reach for the top, even if it was something as small as, _Tatsuya, Korean BBQ?_ And Tatsuya felt shame growing hot underneath his skin. He’d heard through Atsushi that Taiga was going to UCLA, too, but it was halfway into Taiga’s second quarter and Tatsuya’s fifth and Taiga had been the one to reach out to him and not the other way around, as it should have been. 

Tatsuya let out a long breath and slumped down against the window.

His phone buzzed and he checked his messages.

_I’m here._

Tatsuya looked around and saw, rounding the corner, Taiga’s huge form, his red and black hair distinct and visible even in the dark, his phone a lighthouse for Taiga’s face. 

Tatsuya pushed himself off the glass, through the small crowd, and across the cramped parking lot to stand on the sidewalk. Taiga looked taller, if that was even possible, a bag slung over his shoulder, and Tatsuya felt that old resentment stirring underneath the left side of his ribcage and crawling all over his heart and lungs. But then Taiga looked up.

Tatsuya caught his eye and looked away, briefly, and then back. He lifted his arm and waved. “Hey,” he said, not shouting, but loud enough to hear as Taiga crossed the street.

“Hey,” Taiga said. “Sorry I’m late. I missed the stop.”

“That’s okay,” Tatsuya said. “I should have picked you up.”

“You would have been stuck in traffic forever.” 

Tatsuya thought--if they were kids, he would have said, It’s fine. I’ll pick you up. In the face of Taiga’s enthusiasm, Tatsuya couldn’t say no. But they weren’t kids anymore. Taiga had outgrown him, as much as someone can outgrow another person. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” Tatsuya said. 

Taiga shrugged one shoulder and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah … I mean … You know, I didn’t think you’d even respond.”

Tatsuya clenched one hand into a fist, and then relaxed. He smiled. “Don’t have such a negative impression of me,” he said. 

“I ...” Taiga turned his head to the brightly lit sign above the awning. “I’m starving.”

“Taiga,” Tatsuya said. 

“Yeah?” Taiga glanced back at him as he started walking across the lot to the front door. 

There were a lot of things to say. Himuro had a running list of all his regrets dedicated to all the things he’d done to Taiga, all the blame and self-hatred he’d pushed onto him, all the pushing and yelling. Taiga had been trying his best.

“You’re still bad at school, right?” Himuro asked.

“I... I’ve been getting help,” Taiga said gruffly. “From Akashi.”

They both stood awkwardly next to the restaurant’s entrance, a crush of families and couples entering and exiting Hae Jang Chon, talking loudly, and the smell of meat made Tatsuya’s stomach curl in anticipation. 

“Hey,” Tatsuya said. “After this--let me take you back to the dorms.”

“Oh,” Taiga said. “Yeah. Sure. That would be. Nice.” He coughed into his shoulder. “We should... hang out more.” He let out a deep breath. Tatsuya wondered how long he had been holding that sentence in. As if … he were afraid that _Tatsuya_ would reject him.

Tatsuya suddenly felt stupid. 

All these years. Taiga had already forgiven him for--everything. 

“Yeah, we should hang out more,” Tatsuya said. “We can study together, too. I’ll show you around UCLA.” 

Immediately, Taiga said, “You don’t have to. I kinda know my way.” 

“I do,” Tatsuya said. He reached out and placed a hand on Taiga’s shoulder. He really had grown, Tatsuya thought, and was surprised to feel only a little bit of resentment, but mostly pride. “I mean, who’s going to show my little brother around, if not me? Who’s going to keep you from failing out of _UCLA_?”

“Shut up,” Taiga said, and punched him. 

Tatsuya laughed, his arm throbbing, his car parked three blocks away in an dimly lit neighborhood, the scent of meat so close but so far, the relationship between them strained by the years apart, but Taiga smiled, even laughed a little too, and for a moment, Tatsuya found that he could forgive himself for leaving Taiga alone.


	2. A different sort of place.

On Himuro’s senior trip back to California with Kagami, Kagami kissed Himuro underneath a low-hanging rock at Laguna Beach. Their bare feet dug into the sand, Himuro’s jeans rolled up to just below his knees and Kagami’s red surf shorts clinging wetly to his thighs. Himuro watched Kagami’s face, his cheeks red all the way to his ears, his hair slicked back, his mouth salty, his hands gripping Himuro’s arms tightly as Himuro stood, small rocks digging into Himuro’s back.

“Uh,” Kagami said against Himuro’s lips, and pulled away. He rubbed the back of his head, his wet hair sticking up in all directions. Himuro stared at him, his heart pounding in his chest. Before his face turned warm and embarrassing, Himuro looked over the rocks to the ocean. It was a nice day out. There were lots of surfers, and children, and dogs. 

He turned back to Kagami. 

“Sorry,” Kagami said, rubbing his cheek like he had been slapped.

“Why are you apologizing,” Himuro said. He reached out and touched the cold, silver ring hanging around Kagami’s neck. Kagami’s skin was warm and moist. Himuro’s throat went dry. 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Kagami gazed at Himuro’s hand through his eyelashes. Himuro thought that he’d never see Kagami’s shy face again, not after Kagami grew up. But this was coming close. “Make some sort of expression, Tatsuya.” 

“How do I say this.” Himuro took a step closer to Kagami until their sandy toes touched. “You surprised me. How about we try it again?” 

“Idiot,” Kagami said. His eyes were focused on something just past Himuro’s shoulder. 

“You have a crush on me,” Himuro said, pressing his lips to Kagami’s, tasting the salt on his lips again. He put one hand on Kagami’s hip and squeezed him encouragingly, until Kagami leaned forward into his touch. 

“You too,” Kagami mumbled, his face as red as the darkest tips of his hair. “Go out with me.”

“This is kind of backwards, isn’t it,” Himuro said, while Kagami was trying to stick his tongue into his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Kagami said. 

“You’ve grown up so much,” Himuro sighed happily.

When Kagami dumped him into the shallow water and stormed off to retrieve his surfboard, Himuro thought, _I probably deserved that._

But it was worth it.


	3. Meet me halfway.

Himuro’s face stared out at Kagami’s laptop screen, the pixellation blurring out even the beauty mark next to his eye. When he spoke, his voice was garbled through Kagami’s headphone speakers, like a bird chirping from deep within a bush. “Alex sends her regards.” 

“She sent me a picture of her with a huge bruise on her face this morning,” Kagami said, sliding his back down the couch, balancing the laptop on his thighs. The CPU fan felt hot even through the hard plastic and Kagami thought about moving to the bedroom, but that would mean getting up, unplugging his laptop, and carefully navigating his way through the darkness, around the couch, into the room, and over the stacks of basketball magazines Aomine had been leaving at his apartment every time he came over. 

“She was breaking up a fight,” Himuro said. The slow connection spiked through Himuro’s laughter, cutting it apart, tiny gaps between the sounds; his image moved separately from his voice. He started to say something else, but Kagami’s computer, maybe the connection, cut off his every word. 

“Hey,” Kagami said, but Himuro kept talking. His image froze on the screen while the audio went on. Kagami said, “Hey. Hey,” again, but when Himuro finally stopped with a “huh?” Himuro’s face was a few blocks of black and white on the screen. 

“Hey, Taiga?” Himuro’s voice cracked. “Taiga? Otouto? O--”

Before he could say it again, Kagami sat up and ended the call. 

taigaheat95: sry, can’t hear u  
cooldragon94: sry, bad connection  
taigaheat95: phone call?  
cooldragon94: phone dead, nxt week? alex too  
taigaheat95: ok  
cooldragon94: gotta run, cya  
 _cooldragon94 has signed off._

Kagami placed his laptop on the table. The Skype window stayed open, staring back at him. Kagami thought about scrolling back up and reading their previous conversations, each one as fragmented as the last, their whole Skype history beginning with a single message from several years ago when Kagami first came back to Japan, a tentative, _“hey u there, big bro?”_ to which Himuro had never responded, but had definitely seen.


End file.
